User blog:WayfinderOwl/BTM: It's Tha Fifties Somewhere 2
Made In The Shade I sat on the couch—deemed the corner no one would dare sit in, since Gary claimed the seat to my left. Pete and I had planned to see in the new year on TV. Apparently there was some big new year’s party in Middle Park, Liberty City. The rest of the school had other plans. A big party, that got pretty wild. The card table was turned into a buffet—consisting of all the varieties of junk food YumYum Market had to offer. Some of the Jock seniors had spiked the punchbowl. Gary hadn’t said two words to us all night—and I was very grateful for that. Pretty much spending the entire Christmas season with him was more than enough to last a lifetime. Half the Nerds were totally wasted, and reciting the periodic table from memory to the tune of a Silent Night. Paper banners plastered the ceiling and the walls—half of them were TP. And not clean toilet paper for that matter. Everyone took a “don’t ask, don’t tell” approach to not acknowledging them. As the jocks drunkenly sang in the new year, I raised a can of beam cola, and said, “Happy new year, Pete.” “Happy new year, Josh,” said Pete, bumping the can against my own. Gary let out a dry laugh. “I’m guessing you two are going to kiss. Better hurry, it won’t count in twenty seconds.” “Gary, you’re a jerk,” I told him. “Oh, boohoo… you are hurtful!” he said, mockingly. Stood, drew pretend tears down his cheek with his finger. “I’m going to go cry!” He walked away, and was lost to us by the sea of kids enjoying a reason to stay up late. Pete stood. “I’m heading to bed.” I nodded to him. I wanted to stay up a little bit longer. Being around people at new year was a notion I liked. Usually Mom and Dad locked me in whatever dump we called home, while they went to the nearest bar to get wrecked. Pete walked around the couch. He leaned over the back rest, patted me on the shoulder with his hand. He whispered, “Happy Birthday, Josh. Your present is on your pillow.” “Thanks, Pete,” I said, smiling. After an hour of sitting alone, I headed to bed myself. On my pillow was Pete’s gift. A bulky parcel, wrapped in brown paper, with the words “had a hunch” written in Pete’s neat handwriting. I ripped open the paper, and found a black leather jacket. The same one I was looking at in Final Cut two days ago, when I brought my new boots and black fingerless gloves. How did Pete know? My mind had drifted to the Greasers lately, but I hadn’t told anyone. I was ready to take Johnny up on his generous offer. ^^^ After grabbing a quick lunch—apples only, I walked over to the Greaser table. Edna had made a leftover stew, that made me feel sick just looking at it. Johnny had his arm around Lola, talking to Peanut as if she wasn’t even there. He talked about something to do with the chain on his bike. Hal was handing out burgers to the boys. “Oi, Josh,” said Hal. “You wantin’ one?” “Hell yeah,” I replied, catching the burger wrapped in grease paper he threw over to me. Ricky patted me on the shoulder. “A bike race against those preps. Winner takes all. Me and Johnny are competing. I heard that Justin kid is involved. Turf in Bullworth Town at stake. Winner take all. You in?” Lowering my head, I muttered a small pathetic “No.” I unwrapped the burger, hoping they wouldn’t push the subject. “Oh, come on. Don’t ya want to make him pay for ratting you out? Shame of losing lasts forever.” “I don’t know how to ride a bike,” I blurted out. I held my hand over my mouth, wishing I hadn’t said it. They would probably kick me out. Silence lingered for a few seconds before Johnny broke it. “No sweat, kid. After classes, meet me near the tenements.” I nodded, thinking this would be it. Johnny would probably kick me out. What good is a greaser kid who can’t ride a bike? It would probably go down outside the tenements. Ditch me in the heart of New Coventry, and egg me all the way home. Or maybe I was letting my imagination get away with me. After the Preps screwing me over the way they did, I had a little trust issues with groups offering me membership so easily. I ate my burger, listening to the boys talk about bike chains and fixing the tuning of the frame (or whatever they were saying.) It all went right over my head. Vance joined us. He patted me on the back, and told me I had mail up in the office. I nodded and thought I might as well go check it out. A few of the Greaser boys bumped fists with me or patted me on the back as I left. Never have I been so popular in my life. At least with mail anyway. Growing up I never got a single letter, because no one was to know I existed outside the roles my parents gave me. On the way up the stairs, Justin and I crossed paths. He gave me the stink eye. I just smiled and shrugged. Those Prep kids weren’t my problem anymore. If I was honest to myself, I would admit, I was much happier having them all hate me, than having to pretend to be friends and hang out with them. Miss Danvers gave me my letter. It was a thick brown envelope. My jaw fell open again at the handwriting on the address; it was my own again. No return address. I dashed out the office, stuffing the letter under my jacket. I ran down the corridor towards the music classroom. Pete was getting something out of his locker. He looked to me frowning. “Josh, what’s up?” I pulled the envelope out my jacket and showed it to him. “Another one.” Pete looked around. There were too many kids and prefects around, to open it discretely. He nodded towards the boy’s bathroom. I followed him. Punched each of the doors lightly with my fist. They swung open. Pete walked into one cubicle, put the toilet seat down, dropped his backpack on the floor, and sat on the cistern tank. I looked around once more; no one around, and the door was shut. I headed into the cubicle, locked the door and sat down on the toilet, to make it seem like I was taking a dump, if anyone looked under enough to see my feet. I ripped open the envelope. Inside were letters I had written to my imaginary parents as a kid. Only not from the beaten old notebook, or the scribbles of a little kid barely able to read or write yet. These were legible, exactly the same as I write now. “That can’t be your handwriting,” Pete whispered. “It is,” I whispered back. “Give me a pen.” “In my backpack.” I rummaged through the backpack, pulled out a pen and beside the address, wrote it again in my own hand. Showed it to Pete. “Exactly the same,” he muttered. “Who would want to do this?” “I don’t know.” “When did they start arriving.” “After we went to Burger with Bryce. I was sent that newspaper article, remember?” “Oh yeah. Can I see the letters?” I handed them to him. He read the first one in silence. “I feel like I’ve read it before,” Pete whispered. “You have. Remember that package my parents sent me? Gary was being a dick, and hanging around in the doorway.” “I remember.” “Well, in the package was an old notebook. I used to write letters to imaginary parents.” “Whoever wrote this must have seen them.” “You mean, broke into our dorm and copied them or something?” “Well, yeah. Who even knew about your life before you came here?” “Derby. My parents scammed his dad. I gave him all the details. But, he wouldn’t.” “Are you sure? People do say, that if anyone could take over the whole school and take the king crown from Ted, it would be Derby. He is pretty manipulative.” “So, you’re saying Derby knew all along and set me up as some revenge hit for my parents, not realizing I hate them and the feeling is mutual.” “Only other explanation.” “Gary also knew. He was right there when I opened it. I showed him everything in the box. I doubt he would do this. If he wanted to destroy me, he could easily do it, without having to resort to letters.” “We can talk about it in the dorm. What you doing later?” “Johnny wants to see me at the tenements. He was all secretive about it.” ^^^ I stood outside the tenements, rubbing my hands together, to keep the warmth in my fingers. Real smart move on my part. Choosing fingerless gloves. Another reason to add to why I’m an idiot. My mind was already reeling, wondering if Johnny was going to turn up. He was probably looking at me right now from one of the windows of the many apartments, having a good laugh at my expense. My thoughts were wrong. “Oi, Josh,” Johnny called, from the trail that skirted around New Coventry, towards the old track bridge. He had two bikes. Peanut was setting something up on them. I walked towards them, more curious than anything. A few links of chains welded to a crowbar, the loops held in place by padlocks. There was at least three stretching across to below the handlebars, the bar under the seat, and the foot bars sticking out either side of the wheels. I didn’t know what their real names. “All done, Johnny. Shouldn’t get in your way much,” said Peanut. He stood, nodded at me, and headed off down the alleyway. “Who are these for?” I asked. “You and me,” Johnny replied. “But I don’t know how to ride.” “Yet,” Johnny corrected. “Pick a bike.” “I’ll fall flat on my face.” “No you won’t. I’m steady on my bike. You ain’t gonna fall, because of these bars.” My heart beat so fast, I thought it might hammer right out my chest. Johnny assured me we would only go as far as the trees. I felt reluctant at first. Against all my fears, I climbed onto the bike. Johnny mounted his bike, and told me we were only going to pedal a couple of times. He explained the brakes to me and everything. Riding a bike for the first time was horrifying. Johnny’s reassurance helped. Even before he talked to me, I had heard rumors that he was the best bike rider in Bullworth. Very rarely he lost a race. I didn’t know if there was much truth to them, but the idea that the best bike rider in the school was teaching me how to ride a bike gave me a surge of confidence. We pedaled as far as the trees. Dismounted, turned them around and stopped. Johnny had to check the weird crowbar mechanism. I held onto the handlebar, eyes focused straight ahead. “Johnny, can I ask you something personal?” “Sure kid. Go on.” “Why do you date Lola? I know people talk, and half what they say is a load of crap to bring people down. But there has to be some truth to it somewhere.” “Sometimes the things you love ain’t always good for you. I know Lola will always be cheating on me. I knew that about her when we started seeing each other. She ain’t never gonna change. Neither am I. Best to have the pain I know, than deal with the pain of not having her. You know?” “That is messed up. Sorry, but it is. You know she is going to hurt you, so you give her a free pass to do it again.” “Life is messed up.” He slipped something into his pocket and nodded. “Right, kid just pedal a couple of feet, then stop. Just like I showed you.” I nodded, and pedaled. More than a few feet. At least twenty away from where I started. The bike was too light. Much lighter than it should be. I applied the brakes, put my feet down on the ground, and turned to Johnny—only he wasn’t there. I looked back to the trees. Johnny hadn’t moved. The crowbars were still attached to his bike, but the other end sank into the snow. He jangled the keys to the padlocks between his fingers. A smile spread across his lips, and there was a look in his eyes that implied you did good, kid. My jaw fell open. I had ridden a bike all by myself. And I couldn’t have felt more confident in myself. Not enough to race, but enough to want to ride more. We had to dump the crowbars back at the tenements, before I could ride again. Johnny lead me—on the bike—through alleyways, past YumYum, to some old train tracks. The old warehouse building was now a BMX park. Some of the other greaser boys were doing tricks. I stayed content riding around on the more steady ground getting used to the balance. After a while, I didn’t even need to concentrate any more. I was so going to tell Pete about this later. I skidded to a halt, taking a breather. Peanut, Johnny, Vance and Ricky stopped their bikes, creating a semi-circle in front of me. “Told you,” said Johnny. “Righto,” said Vance, nodding approvingly. “You’ll be burning up the race track in no time.” “I don’t know about that,” I said, pulling up my collar, hoping to hide my flushed face. “Hey, I call like I see,” said Vance. They were obviously humoring me, to boost my confidence, but I really appreciated it. The Preps never would had done it. They would have laughed their asses off, while I made an ass of myself. Russell and the gang wouldn’t have done it. They would have just shrugged, and made sure I didn’t have to do anything involving a bike. My confidence had soared in more way than one; not just my ability to ride a bike, but in the fact I had actually made the right choice for once in my clique search. Category:Blog posts Category:WayfinderOwl's Fanfiction